


Can I Help You??

by NotASpaceAlien



Category: Doctor Who, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5174387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotASpaceAlien/pseuds/NotASpaceAlien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale and Crowley's relaxing day is interrupted by someone rapidly shouting nonsense at them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I Help You??

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr at http://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/126128156790/prompt-crossover-with-anything-else-some

It was a nice day.

Aziraphale hated that.  It meant there were more people walking out and about during the day, which meant more customers.

He was trying to dis-organize his books more carefully than usual, in preparation for the onslaught of one, perhaps two people who would probably show up that day, when suddenly there was a noise that sounded like a car braking, if the sound had been run through one of those voice modulators that can make you sound either like Darth Vader or a space alien and played on a loop.

“What on earth was that?” said Crowley.  He was lounging in an armchair in the corner that Aziraphale had provided explicitly for this purpose.  Before, there had been no seating in the shop except for Aziraphale’s stool, and so Crowley would just sit on any surface higher than three feet off the ground,* and Aziraphale had found that accommodating the demon was easier than arguing with him.**

* * *

  
*Up to and including any stack of books, the shelves, the window, the tables, the counter, and Aziraphale himself.

**Aziraphale always felt morally obliged to tell him to stop being so frightening and performing minor acts of evil in his shop, but it scared people off and meant fewer customers made off with his books, so he always tolerated it, although he pretended that he was constantly on the verge of kicking Crowley out.

* * *

“I don’t know,” said Aziraphale, setting down his log book.  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything like it.  Is there some event going on today perhaps?”

Crowley gave a non-committal noise and went back to dozing; his black suit and the way he curled up made him reminiscent of a black tabby cat.

A few moments later, and with some amount of hubbub, a man entered the shop.  He was wearing a blue suit and had sharp, ruffled hair.  He looked like the type of man Aziraphale would describe as _a spry young fellow._   Immediately behind him was a dark-skinned young woman whose hair stuck out at odd angles like a pineapple.

“Good morning!” said the man, flashing them a toothy grin and sticking his hand in his pockets.

Aziraphale, behind the counter now, gave them his best bored look.  “Feel free to browse,” he said dismissively.

Nobody moved.  The man in the blue suit approached the counter, withdrawing a thin metal object from his pocket.

“Is there something I can-”  Aziraphale stopped as the man waved the object back and forth in front of him, the object buzzing and emitting a piercing blue light.  “Erm—what—can I help you with something, sir?” Aziraphale stammered, sounding vaguely alarmed, his eyes following the blue light.

The blue light snapped off and the object disappeared back into the man’s blue suit.  “As I thought,” he said.  He spun around to the woman and said, in a voice Aziraphale thought he had not been meant to hear,***  “I told you, Martha, he’s not human, just as I thought.  Right!”  This last part was said as he spun back around, bouncing energetically on the balls of his feet.

* * *

***but did, on account of his supernaturally keen hearing

* * *

“What did he say?” said Aziraphale.

Crowley was suddenly beside Aziraphale, glaring at the newcomers from behind his sunglasses.  “Is there any particular reason why you’re waving a glowing vibrator at my friend?  Can’t you read the sign?  The store is closed.”

“But the sign didn’t say—oh.”  The young woman had turned to point indignantly at the OPEN sign on the door, only to find that it had somehow become a CLOSED sign.

“We won’t be long,” said the man.  The silver object came out again, and the performance was repeated on Crowley, the blue light reflecting off his dark lenses.  He examined the object and made a “hm” sound before slipping it back into his pocket.

He then thumped something wet onto the counter.  “It looks as though we have an infestation.”

Aziraphale and Crowley were both looking at the object in horror; it was a huge piece of some chitinous material, slathered in green goo and leaking fluids onto the book Aziraphale had out.

“What is that?” said Crowley, poking it with revulsion.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said Aziraphale.  “Infestation?  If you’re trying to peddle some sort of insecticide product, I’m sure—”  


“It’s Cheliceron exoskeleton,” said the man.

They both blinked at him when he offered no elaboration.  Aziraphale was confused.  His first thought had been that perhaps these two were the latest in a long line of people sent to try and bully him into selling his shop, but they weren’t dressed right for that.  “Ahm, who are you, again, if I may ask?”

The man flipped open a leather wallet and said, “The names Dr. Jones, but you can call me the Doctor, and this is my assistant Martha.  We’re going to need to inspect your premises.  There’s an infestation and it’s a matter of public health, I’m afraid.”

Aziraphale and Crowley were once again staring at him uncomprehendingly.

“Did you ID fall out or something?” said Crowley, with a weak smile.

The Doctor’s jaw worked as he struggled to find something to say.  “Ah.  You-you noticed it was blank, did you?  Right, okay then, I should have figured that probably wouldn’t have worked on you…”  Martha was suppressing a wry laugh behind him.  


The Doctor slammed his hands on the counter, his voice suddenly intense with anger.  “Okay, then right for the throat, if that’s how it’s got to be.  Five people were found dismembered this morning and that—” he jerked his thumb towards the disgusting blob on the counter “— was left at the crime scene.  That’s a piece of exoskeleton from a Cheliceron larva, the adult form of which—”  He looked pointedly right into Aziraphale’s eyes “—takes on human form once it’s ingested a human.  Now you do the math as to why I’ve got my eye on the only two clearly non-human sentients in Soho.”

The only sound was the clock on the wall ticking.  Aziraphale leaned in towards Crowley and whispered, “I don’t understand.  What is he trying to sell us?”

“Are you a bloody lunatic?” exploded Crowley.  “What the hell does any of that mean?”

“It means,” said Martha testily, cutting the Doctor off, “That a lot of people are dead, and more are going to die if we don’t find what did it, and we know it wasn’t a human who did it, and you two are clearly not human—”  She stopped, as if suddenly realizing she was saying something foolish.

The clock ticked on in silence again, and the Doctor began to look more and more mortified with each passing second.  He spun around and spoke to Martha in a rapid whisper which, again, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale were supposed to hear,**** “They’re not Chelicerons.”

* * *

****but did, on account of their supernaturally keen hearing.

* * *

“What?” said Martha, sounding horrified.

“They aren’t, because as soon as you confront a Cheliceron it blows up with its pincers and antennae and buggy eyes and—”  He made a gesture outwards from his head “—stuff.”

“But you said they weren’t human!” Martha said quickly back.

“Right, they aren’t human, but they aren’t—”  He stole a glance at them over his shoulder.  “I think I might have just royally pissed off a pair of unknown non-human entities so get ready to run.”

“What did he say?” said Aziraphale.  “Are you seriously suggesting—”

But the Doctor and Martha had bolted out the door, the bell clanging violently as it closed on them.

“What an odd couple,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley draped himself over his chair, tilting his head so he could go back to napping.  “Yeah, not quite sure what…their deal was.”  The Doctor and Martha were having a similar conversation elsewhere. 


End file.
